


May Angels Lead You In

by Ranchod_Tunnell



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: And Altihex...maybe, Artsy Sunstreaker, Con Artist Sideswipe, Cybertronian!Reader - Freeform, Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Memories, Mentions of Slavery, Other, Past Character Death, Praxus, Reader-Insert, Sad, Smut, Sticky, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranchod_Tunnell/pseuds/Ranchod_Tunnell
Summary: They hadn't meant for things to turn so sour. Sunstreaker just wanted to get away from the fighting. Sideswipe just wanted to help them live a better life. They didn't mean for it to go so far. They didn't mean for it to end the way it did. But now it's too late and all that's left are distant memories.





	1. No One in Town

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dying to write this story for years but I haven't been able to figure out what style I wanted to write it in until now. Now that I've figured it out, I'm super excited to get it all down and finished _finally_!
> 
> This fic was inspired by the song Hear You Me/May Angels Lead You In by Jimmy Eat World. Listen to it while you read this if you like. :)
> 
> To start you only need to know that you are neither a boy nor a girl in this story. Cybertronians just don't work that way to me. Which is nice since I get to focus more on the story instead of worrying if a guy would really do this or if this behavior was girly enough for a female. I don't really have any huge explanations or announcements to make yet.
> 
> I can tell you now that this will definitely turn into a series, though. There are a few minor characters that I loved too much and had too much influence in the making of this story for me to not continue with them. The second addition to this series is already four chapters finished though I won't post it until I finish with this first part.

            “It’s ironic, isn’t it?”

 

            Sunstreaker looked up from admiring his new armor to meet his brother’s optics in the glass, “What is?”

 

            “We’re in the same place we tried so hard to get away from. We came to Praxus to get away from the war and instead walked right into the middle of it.” Sideswipe ex-vented unhappily as he stared out the tiny window of their new military-issued housing unit. It was the new base in Praxus. The last peaceful city-state on Cybertron had finally joined the war and was almost completely destroyed for its efforts.

            It hurt to look out at the carnage of a place that was alive and thriving only three orns ago and yet Sideswipe couldn’t shutter his optics—blue; now that he was an Autobot. The red twin wasn’t nearly as interested in the new military upgrade as his golden counterpart. He didn’t have an interest in fighting. Joining the Autobots was his gift to Sunstreaker—an apology for all the slag his last decision had caused them.

 

            “Remember?” Sideswipe prompted, almost anxiously. He couldn’t take the silence. It left him with only his thoughts and memories for entertainment and those were dark places to be at the moment.

 

           “Of course I do,” Sunsteaker huffed as he rolled his optics. He hadn’t gotten his natural gold switched for the blue lenses yet. He couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet. “You didn’t know a single person in Praxus. We were out on the streets for 8 solar cycles before--!”

 

            Sideswipe didn’t bother to look over. He knew the anguish Sunstreaker was going through even if they didn’t have their bond between them to clue him in. He was going through the same fragging thing. It left him hollow and listless but it made Sunstreaker angry and volatile. He suspected they’d get called to an SO’s office for it later in the cycle after Sunstreaker sent someone ~~else~~  to the infirmary.

 

            Sideswipe finally shuttered his optics against the mangled, twisted remains of what once was the cultural center of Cybertron.

 

_“You…don’t have a place to stay?”_

_“Nah. We only just got to Praxus two groons ago,” Sideswipe said proudly. Sunstreaker seethed silently in angry embarrassment._

_“Where do you sleep?”_

_“Oh, here or there. The last coupla cycles we’ve been shacking up in that art studio you mentioned last time; but I imagine they’re going to toughen up now that we can’t use that huge art festival as an excuse to stay passed closing.” He laughed at the distressed expression curling your faceplates. A rich mech like you probably couldn’t even fathom not having more than three different beds, let alone an entire house to call your own._

_“Where’s the mech who’s supposed to be sponsoring you?”_

_"Dipped off,” Sideswipe lied easily._

_“Oh, that won’t do…,” they heard you murmur. Sunstreaker panicked, afraid they’d been caught, but Sideswipe remained as cool and collected as ever._

_“Why won’t it? Unless you’re offering to let us bunk with you for a couple cycles.” He delivered it as a joke but it definitely left something to think about._

_“Well, I can’t very well do nothing now that I know your situation, can I?” Your tall, rhodium-tipped, pure (color) audial finials rose from their resting positions angled towards the back of your helm to sit straight up. You were clearly stressed if the rhythmic tapping of your fingers had anything to say about it. You shook your helm and rose sharply to your heeled pedes. “Come.”_

_A wave of anxiety tickled Sideswipe’s spark after you statement. He pulsed back reassurance to his twin but otherwise ignored his concerns. Sunstreaker was an artist sure, but he had no skill in conning people. That was Sideswipe’s specialty and he’d be damned if he let Sunny mess up their chance at catching someone big._

_Sunstreaker followed after you hesitantly when you motioned for them to follow you from your favorite bistro to your home in the city-state, “Where are we going?”_

_He hoped to Primus you weren’t going to turn them over to the police._

_Praxus had adopted a rather strict rule regarding immigrants after the political warfare started bubbling over. Members of the Autobots or the Decepticons were strictly not allowed at this point. The twins belonged to neither faction but Praxus was neutral and staying that way was becoming harder and harder with so many mecha trying to influence the city. The borders were largely closed. The only way to get in and stay in was to have a resident back a potential citizen. Aspiring peoples needed to have a Praxian vouch for their suitability, to take responsibility for them until they could be self-reliant._

_Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had no such luck. Sideswipe, as popular as he was, knew not one soul in Praxus._

_"I’m taking you to my home. Well, my second one anyway. My real one is in the Towers, in Altihex, but I needed a change of scenery.” The stubs on your back—much smaller and more rectangular than Praxian doorwings that only consisted of two large panels while you had four little ones, like a dragonfly’s wings—drooped. “I feel terrible, having two homes to choose from at my leisure while you have none. You can stay there until you get settled here in Praxus.”_

_Sideswipe grinned and nodded absently as you started to chatter. He largely tuned you out now that he’d secured what he wanted. His mind was now planning out how his next conquest was going to go down._

_~ **I told you we’d be alright, Sunny**.~_

 

 

             “We never said thank you for that.”


	2. Chance, Luck, Strength, Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one night! I'm kind of proud of that. However, it's almost 4am and I have work in the morrow so number three will have to wait. But! Enjoy this one! Hopefully it makes as much sense later when I'm not sleep-deprived as when I'm actually awake.

_Sunstreaker was not happy. He was fragging pissed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so slagging nervous!_

_It was all Sideswipe’s fault, the slagging glitch._

_He was the one who signed them up for this ridiculous Praxian Cultural Festival. Without his consent, no less! They’d been in the city-state all of four cycles, and Sideswipe was more focused on getting him to sell some shoddy amateur’s attempt at art instead of finding them a place to live! Not even counting the fact that this little art exhibit was not showcasing anything for sale. In other words, they’d make no money from this!_

_“‘Trust me’, he says. ‘I know what I’m doing’, he says. Yeah, sure he does and my audial fins sparkle with rainbow colors. He’s not even here!” Sunstreaker rumbles to himself, uncomfortable in the ridiculously oversized, high-ceilinged gazebo used for this little part of Praxus’ gargantuan event._

_There were more Cybertronians here than he’d ever seen clustered together. They came from all over the planet to see all their culture corralled into one space. Or at least, everyone who wasn’t busy trying to shoot each other’s helms off came out._

_Sunstreaker tries not to fret too obviously. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself after all. He’s never been a people’s-mech. He didn’t like crowds. Bad things always happened in big groups like this. And yet he didn’t dare move from this spot just in case Sideswipe decided to come back for him. Not that he thought Sideswipe would abandon him--he could still feel his twin across their bond—but he really wasn’t an artsy mech. Sitting around, listening to mecha go on and on about crafts wasn’t something he could do._

_Thankfully, most of the mecha speaking were doing so with each other and not Sunstreaker. When they approached his little stand with his art propped up on little tripods, they paid him almost no attention. They simply stared at whatever piece caught their eye, commented on it to themselves, and moved on. Sunstreaker couldn’t bear to listen to their criticism. He turned away and shut off his audials whenever they started. That was how Sideswipe found his twin when he finally returned._

_“Geez, Sunny, you’re supposed to be mingling. Not hiding away in a corner. How else do you expect people to buy your stuff?” Sideswipe sighed irritably._

_“This isn’t a sale, Sideswipe. If you were smart, you’d know that,” Sunstreaker retorted back hotly. He couldn’t believe Sideswipe was going around like Sunstreaker had inconvenienced him when Sideswipe was the one who made this mess! “And don’t call me ‘Sunny’.”_

_“Whatever, Sunshine.” His engine rumbled but his retort was interrupted by a tiny energon goodie being held to his lips. “Eat. You’ll like them. They’re just as sweet as you are.”_

_“But I don’t like sweets.”_

_“Exactly.” Sunstreaker rolled his optics but accepted the treats anyway. He didn’t expect them to be so sour that the insides of his cheeks threatened to mesh together. Sideswipe howled with laughter._

_Leave it to Sideswipe to draw all the attention Sunstreaker’d spent the last joor keeping away, in less than a klick. Most of the mecha simply glanced their way to see what all the noise was about and turned away afterwards but a couple of mecha’s optics found their way to his crude drawings and instead ventured over for a closer look._

_“These are very good,” someone—a small but very compact (color) mecha with smooth lines, bright legs, and expensive silvery detailing—said admiringly._

_Your companions—one a taller and bulkier mech with a glittery pale green finish and the other an incredibly thin femme-like feline individual—moved forward to share in the sight. The former scrunched up his nose and flared his field disapprovingly, “They’re rough sketches. There’s not a touch of color or a drop of paint on any one these pieces.”_

_The latter did not share her opinion. It was clear from the thick, tight, ornate band of silvery metal around her throat that she was a second-class citizen; a servant of some sort or perhaps a pet of yours. Instead she turned her large blue optics to the twins and regarded them curiously. You fluttered your white-tipped (color) panels—like a pair of tiny Praxian doorwings split in two—as you tried to explain to your companion, “Art is not all the same and in any case, using color on these pieces would surely distract from the detail and sense of movement the artist captured. The fact that he or she chose to use metal sheets instead of softer, organic materials says a lot for their skill in producing such an image. I understand that you are not interested in art and that the bits you like are classical but if you are so truly against different styles, then you should not have accompanied me here. I can do this on my own.”_

_The pistachio-green mech faltered in surprise. His field took on a neutral tone, tinged with faint regret, “I did not mean to insinuate otherwise. I simply thought only that this might be a nice outing for us.”_

_“It was a nice thought, certainly. But this is clearly something only I find joy in and I would prefer to enjoy it alone if we cannot do so together.” You took notice of your mechanimal’s focus then, and turned your (color) optics to the two mecha standing off to the side. They were doing a very poor job of pretending not to be listening but you smiled pleasantly anyway. “Hello. Is one of you the artist by chance?”_

_Sideswipe, the gregarious schmoozer he was, grinned and approached you boldly, “Yeah but it isn’t me. My brother, Sunny’s the one with all the artistic talent.”_

_“It’s '_ Sunstreaker',” _said mech stressed as he stepped forward to stand by his brother. He wasn’t any less nervous. On the contrary, it’d skyrocketed. But there was no backing down now so he had to get through it._

_“Could you tell me about your pieces? They are very visually striking. What inspired you to use metal slabs instead of a more traditional material? And what did you use to cut into it so delicately?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions but you really were impressed. It was just so different and inspiring._

_“They’re nothing amazing,” Sunstreaker began out of reflex. Sideswipe nudged encouragement and pride and love across the bond which prompted him to start over. “I was just sitting, waiting for my brother to come back from, uh, from an errand and, well, there were leftover slabs lying around the...the, uh, well just around the ground, I guess. I picked one up and just raked it across another. It started off as just frustrated carving but then I realized I could draw with it and well, those appeared. They’re not even really that good. I was just doodling. My real stuff is much better it’s just this was all my brother could find when he signed me up behind my back.”_

_“Then you are certainly lucky to have such an extraordinary talent that can turn junk into the start of a masterpiece.”_

_“That’s certainly an exaggeration,” your companion snorted before he could stop himself._

_Irritation flared in your field momentarily before you quickly reigned it in, “Layout, why don’t you fetch us something to eat?”_

_The mech, dubbed Layout, recoiled as if you’d slapped him, “Isn’t that your slave’s job?”_

_“What if I require her assistance while she was gone? If you’d be so kind?” Your tone spoke of very little argument. You’d had just about enough of his griping for the evening and it showed. Layout huffed fussily but did as you bade. You hoped he took the hint and did not come back for you that cycle._

_His words had already done damage however. The golden mech, who’d been slowly relaxing under your words of praise, had now curled back in on himself and now watched you blankly. You rolled your optics at the turn of events and waved a dismissing servo, “Pay him no mind. I usually don’t. If we weren’t hosting our next gathering together, surely we’d never converse.”_

_“I don’t need your pity,” Sunstreaker frowned._

_You quirked an eyebrow ridge, “I’ll make note of that should I ever get the notion but this is not out of pity. It is honestly fairly selfish of me, if you’ll allow me to speak plainly. You see, I am hosting an auction and I would love for you to bring a few of your better works to decorate the hall I’ve booked for the festivities afterwards. Some of my very best friends are coming and I’d love to show them something special.”_

_Sunstreaker didn’t quite know how to respond. You misread it and ex-vented with a resigned smile, “Unfortunately, it seems this conversation has soured and leaves little to be salvaged but I’ll leave you my contact information should you decided to come. You’re lucky, Sunstreaker. You have talent and a strong one, at that. You should take pride in it.”_

_And with a last departing smile and a datapackage from your mechanimal, you moved on, off to collect other great talents to showcase at your event._

_“Good job, Sunny! You landed a big fish!” Sideswipe cackled and nuzzled his helm once you were out of audial range._

_Sunstreaker allowed a small, strained smile to come to his lips._

_The largest part of him told him to ignore you. Told him that you were lying or trying to trick him or hurt his feelings. To just go along with Sideswipe’s plan to try and milk you for all you had._

_And yet a tiny_ tiny _part of him was relieved and undeniably ecstatic that someone so obviously from a prestigious lineage found something incredible in his art. His_ simple _art. The scrap he made when he grew bored of watching Sideswipe hustle people in pawnshops or back alleys or underground markets!_

_You didn’t know it, but you’d made a huge impression on Sunstreaker that cycle. For the first time in his entire life, he’d felt confident._

 

            ‘ _I never said thank you for that…_ ’

 

            Sunstreaker winced as he was dragged away from his memories.

            He hated the medbay. Not only did he have to wait around for a medic to tell him what he already knew--“You’re perfectly fine. Just be sure to get plenty of recharge.”—but he had to sit around with the other _real_ patients and listen to their prattling.

            “Primus! You were so _lucky_ Screamer didn’t come after you! What did you think you were doing, riding Thundercracker’s back like that?!” An excited minibot shouted up at him.

 

            Sunstreaker’s engine growled, “Just because you can’t muster up enough mettle to do it, doesn’t mean that it was _luck_. I’m just a better soldier than you are.”

 

            “I think it has more to do with how _strong_ you are than how much better you are than someone,” another mech spoke up thoughtfully.

 

            He rolled his still-gold optics, “Translates to the same thing.” He flicked his servo dismissively.

 

            “Not really,” still _another_ scoffed. Honestly, what did it take for these mecha to get that he didn’t want to be bothered? Did he _really_ have to tear an arm off _every_ time?! “It’s amazing that you’re so _proud_ over something that was obviously so dangerously stupid.”

 

            It looked liked he’d just have to. It was a good thing they were already in the medbay. The other mech wouldn’t have to suffer for too long for his mistake.

            He hated it when mecha did that. Spoke about him like they knew anything about him. He wasn’t proud of fighting. It was something he was good at, not something he enjoyed. (Though he was starting to if it meant he got to teach these loudmouths how to mind their place.)

            It had nothing to do with luck. He’d never had something like that on his side. It wasn’t about strength, either. Sure, he had an abundance of that physically but he rarely felt so powerful in any other aspect. The only thing he felt strong in—that he took _pride_ in—was his art and that took a lot of hard work to perfect.

            But how could he explain that? Who would listen? He was a soldier now, not a mech with a complex past and history.

            That was the part that frustrated him more than anything. The absurdity of it all. How he’d gotten trapped in the same web he’d tried to escape from his entire life. It made him angry.

            He was _constantly_ angry now.

            And sad.

            He didn’t used to be this way. Of course, he’d never been a people person, but it was never like this. Especially not when you were still around.

            ‘ _What would you think of me now?_ ’ He thought bitterly as he was tossed from the medbay by Ironhide.

 

_“You’re lucky, Sunstreaker. You have talent and a strong one, at that. You should take pride in it.”_

 

            You never did mean it the same way as everyone else.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saying a 'joor' is like saying an hour.  
> A 'klick' is literally like a second.  
> 'Cycle' is a day.


	3. Seeking Sleepless Grey Statues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one wasn't actually inspired by the same song as the last two. This time, I listened to Crewe and the Soldier by Patrick Doyle from the movie A Little Princess to get this one out. It's very sad and I had to take the Autobots on a much darker road than I usually envision them going down with Optimus. But he isn't Prime yet and Sentinel is a serious asshole so I think it's perfectly plausible.

            Pillaging wasn’t what it used to be for Sideswipe. He’d never really liked it. It was too close to stealing and that brought him very little joy.

            Oh, he knew the justifications for it: this was war; the mecha were dead and had no need for the things they took; it’s not like the Autobots were going to _keep_ the things they found; supplies was running short; they needed the credits.

            Yada yada yada.

            He used some of those same excuses when he tried explaining himself to Sunstreaker when he used to randomly show up with valuables.

            Sideswipe wouldn’t lie. He liked conning people. It was his own great private joke. He got a thrill from sucking people dry without them even knowing what was happening. He liked it best when he got to watch their reactions to him. How they just knew something great was going to result from their actions because they were just too stupid to realize they’d just lost everything.

            Wrenching someone’s possessions from their cold, dead, grey servos wasn’t nearly as funny.       

            Before--and he knew it was a bullshit technicality but he stood by it--he’d always asked. There was always a choice for his victims no matter how compelling he made a deal sound.

            But these mecha--these dead, sparkless frames— they got no choice. They did not consent to giving up their belongings for the Autobots’ war efforts. They were civilians just trying to get by to the best of their ability in this cursed world. They never imagined that their heirlooms and trinkets and lifesavings and prides and joys would be tossed around from servo to servo like cheap toys, bartered and traded away at whatever trading post the Autobots happened to pass by in their travels.

           And they always died so suddenly.

            Sideswipe had seen so many Cybertronians, frozen in their last moments. And yet he seemed to be the only one to really _see_ them. Like they were invisible to everyone else—no different from the next lump of metal caught in the crossfires of war.

            It wouldn’t bother Sideswipe so much if they were in a warzone or the Wilds and the only deaths were those of his enemies. But it was always cities. Always neighborhoods and shopping districts and schools and just… _normal_ places.

            The dead statues were crafted doing regular things like sitting at home watching a program or eating a meal in a restaurant. One bombsite petrified an entire shop of mecha going in for new paintjobs. And the Autobots just waltz through the shop and collected all the colors and finishes and tools and brushes like it wasn’t an impromptu graveyard.

            He hated seeing entire streets filled with grey frames: going to work, walking the pavement, laughing with their loved ones. Further down there were always the ones who saw it coming first and tried to run but it was always _always_ too fast. Too unpredictable. Too late.

             Damn seekers.

 

_“No…No, this is all wrong…!” Sideswipe heard your mechanimal say. Or at least that’s what he thought he’d heard._

_Altihex was burning. There was no other way to describe it. The noise was deafening._

_Sideswipe couldn’t even hear the screams over the jet engines and the sirens and the explosions that seemed to shake the entire globe. He couldn’t see anything. His optics were online but so much was happening at once that he couldn’t focus long enough to really make sense of anything._

_The war was here. Or rather the Decepticon seekers were, at least. There didn’t seem to be anyone opposing them and this realization only drove everyone else into a deeper state of hysteria._

_“Where is [Name]?!” Sideswipe heard Sunstreaker demand deliriously._

_That’s right. They were here for you. They’d come hoping to explain what went wrong last time. They’d come to win you back after you left Praxus with a broken spark._

_They hadn’t planned to in the beginning. You’d made it very clear what would happen to them if you saw them again. Sideswipe assumed your mercy had more to do with an injured pride than actual compassion but he wasn’t going to test his luck all the same. But then Ghost arrived._

_You were inconsolably upset and the little mechanimal could do nothing to put you at ease. You needed them, she was sure of it, and she was not going back unless they came with her. Sideswipe, though he’d never known you to be a cruel master, did not want Ghost to get in trouble lest you assume she’d run away._

_None of them expected the scene they showed up to. Ghost the cybercat looked around herself desperately. She couldn’t imagine her master would still be in the Towers with all this going on around them but that was where her signal was pulling her. Without a word, Ghost curled into her animal form and took off through the mangled streets. The twins were quick to follow her._

_The Towers seemed to be where the assault had begun. The closer the trio moved towards them, the more intense the devastation grew. Bomb shells and rockets and missiles exploded around the entire region. Glass came down like rain from the skyscrapers that met their demise one by one. The streets opened in chasms, their rims curling and tangling and twisting into unrecognizable, burning clumps. Pillars of fire that were once houses and businesses and institutions reached their arms to the heavens._

_There was smoke everywhere. It was so thick they were having a hard time venting which said a lot for the amount of debris in the air._

_They could no longer pretend not to hear the guns. It was very dangerous to run so blatantly through the streets. They could run straight into blaster fire if they weren’t mindful of the circling seekers but Sideswipe couldn’t be bothered to care. He was more concerned with keeping up with Ghost. She was moving very quickly, almost unbearably so, and Sideswipe would not lose the only ticket he had to finding you._

_Worry creeped into his chest when bodies started appearing on the ground in front of him but Ghost didn’t stop running so neither did he. Not until they’d reached the tallest buildings in the entire city._

_The Towers._

_Only there wasn’t much left of them now. Most of them had fallen or were in the process of doing so. Fires raged on the skeleton of one structure while another one simply snapped itself in two and crashed to the ground. Its base had been mostly blown away by missiles. Only one remained completely unharmed._

_“Please tell me that that one’s [Name]’s.”_

_It stood ridiculously tall, stretching to the heavens in a hopeless plea for salvation. A sitting duck just waiting to be snatched up by a hungry hawk. Sideswipe could already hear the flyers coming around for another pass. It wouldn’t live much longer but it was still standing for now and that was the small ray of hope Sideswipe needed at the moment._

_But Ghost’s field flared in despair and Sideswipe felt his own spark constrict. Powerful seekers moved faster than sound traveled and there were only seconds left before she rolled into her bipedal mode and urged them underneath the first bit of large debris she spotted._

_A sound heavier than a bomb, deeper than the Rust Sea, and as strong as thunder filled the air. The vibrations were intense enough to bring down the remaining tower on its own even without the massive additional rounds fired into its body._

_Mecha suddenly burst from the front doors. They were clearly the ones who’d had early warning and tried making their way down before the strike. Sideswipe couldn’t imagine why they hadn’t left way before when they saw what was happening to the Towers around them but then he saw it. A seeker, lying in wait, swooped down over the street and opened fire on the terrified Cybertronians._

_Sideswipe felt Ghost twitch against his side and glanced over. The slave-mech’s blue optics were glued to a small section of the crowd. It was you! He knew your bright legs and tall finials anywhere! You weren’t exiting the building but rather struggling from the scraps of another. You ran over to the group, confused and scared but grateful to find other survivors._

_But it was short-lived._

_Horror twisted Sideswipe’s faceplates as he watched the group of at least 200 mecha—including you--crumple to the ground with holes littering their frames. There was a sudden scramble to get away, some fled further into the streets and met their demise quicker than they’d planned. Others tried to turn around and return to their crumbling stronghold only to meet resistance from those still trying to leave. It lasted only a klick. The seeker couldn’t exactly slow down but Sideswipe was left frozen._

_For the first time in their life, Sunstreaker was the one who prompted Sideswipe into action. Ghost had leapt from their hiding place as soon as she saw the first round tear through her master’s armor. Sunstreaker wouldn’t have been far behind if he hadn’t needed to bring his brother along, too. He couldn’t bear to be parted with Sideswipe. Not now. Not while he was in the middle of a warzone and terrified for his life._

_Energon stained the ground as they approached the mass of screaming, crying,_ dying _mecha. They saw you, balancing precariously on your knees as your slave tried desperately to get a response from you. She was blocking most of their view of you but when she started shaking your shoulders, your helm lolled onto hers._

_Sideswipe’s optics found yours but your visor was shattered and your optics were dark. A round had torn right through your helm._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I popped out three chapters in two days--and that's not including the little drabble for my other story--but I think the next few will require a bit more thought. I know where I'm going and the whole plotline is planned out but it's the delivery I want to get right so sorry if the next update takes a while.


	4. With Me Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out faster than I was expecting! Yay!

            “ _Ugh!_ Come _on_ , Sunstreaker! Move it!”

 

            “Shut the frag up, Sides, and just deal with it.”

 

            Sideswipe glared up at his brother balefully from his side of the berth. Or at least it _was_ his side before Sunstreaker decided he wasn’t allowed to have it anymore.

            The golden mech wasn’t the least bit apologetic. He was freaking _cold_ and in need of fragging _cuddles_! To the Pit with Sideswipe’s frelling feelings!

            There was a rant coming. Sideswipe could feel it.

 

            “It’s too late for this slag…,” he groaned melodramatically before conceding defeat and curling his limbs around his golden twin.

 

            Sunstreaker flared his field victoriously and pressed his hips up against his brother’s matching ones. He smirked despite Sideswipe’s grumbling. Idiot could pretend displeasure all he liked; Sunstreaker wasn’t fooled.

 

 _Sunstreaker heard you and Sideswipe’s combined laughter before he heard anything else. It wasn’t his fault. The golden mech just_ loved _your berth. Not that the one you provided for them was any less good. It was just that yours was so warm and fluffy and_ perfect _~!_

_"What are you doing, Sunstreaker?”_

_“It’s cold and Sides can only warm one side.”_

_“Oh, is that it?” Your field flashed with gentle amusement as you moved forward to settle on the berth. Sunstreaker had buried himself amongst the fabrics, unable to decide if he wanted to curl into the pillows or sprawl across the blankets and instead settled for some weird combination of both. He’d taken up most of your berth this way but you didn’t mind. You actually thought it was very good all things considered._

_He’d come a long way from that quiet, some-what awkward mech who didn’t dare speak his mind, or go after what he wanted for fear of being denied. A mech that expected bad things to happen and simply accepted it as a rule in life. Someone who’d given up hope for love and peace and joy. Who was starting to think that he’d forever be denied what he wished and so had stopped asking._

_‘_ He’s almost the exact opposite now, _’ you thought, stifling a giggle when—after Sunstreaker had forcefully shifted around your frame until he was satisfied half-strewn about your lap and rumbling contentedly--he paused and frowned at his twin when he realized Sideswipe hadn’t complied with his wishes and still remained casually leaning against the doorframe._

_Sideswipe stared right back, quite unmoved by his twin’s bratty behavior, “What?”_

_Sunstreaker sniffed haughtily. You couldn’t fathom how he managed to look down his nose so perfectly while lying down, “You still have a job to do even if you need help doing it. My aft needs you.” Sunstreaker accentuated his words with a suggestive wiggle of his hips that apparently did very little in persuading his brother._

_“Come, now, Sideswipe: we can’t leave him to freeze to death,” you said in the most severe voice you could muster._

_He rolled his optics and looked away from you both, “You’re spoiling him, [Name].”_

_“Which is to say what exactly when I spoil_ you _just as much?” You offered back. Sideswipe simply grumbled irritably. You flicked a sensor panel dismissively and focused your attention on coddling Sunstreaker. Said twin was less than pleased with his brother’s refusal. His lips parted—no doubt in preparation to argue—but you covered them with your own._

_“Leave it alone, Sunstreaker. There are plenty of other ways to warm up,” you told him when you pulled away. He grunted, displeased with being cut off. You, however, were not in the mood for an argument and pressed closer to lick into his mouth when it seemed he was still bent on fussing._

_His growling quickly morphed into groaning when your servos started smoothing over his plating. He shifted. The movement combined with Sunstreaker’s larger body mass pressed your back against the mountain of cushions. You went willingly and hummed when your arrays settled snuggly together._

_You started up a gentle rocking that Sunstreaker contributed to enthusiastically. He was generally more patient than his brother when it came to things that entertained him. He liked to savor the experience, to make sure it was perfect, before moving on to something else._

_He did much the same now; continuing the steady, gentle grinding until cables you didn’t know were tense loosened. You ran your servos up and down his sides as your optics dimmed and your engine took on a smooth idle purring. Sunstreaker was a comfortable weight between your legs. His warming engine sent vibrations into your metal that left your senses tingling. You could feel a small, sweet charge growing and smiled to yourself, pressing deep affection into the golden frame above your own. The build was gradual and hypnotic, so much so that your back arched and a gasp escaped your lips when he started sucking at your neck cabling. Surprised pleasure slammed into your frame. You optics brightened when your panels snapped aside to bare your interface array._

_You were sensitive, now—so close to overload that it was actually ridiculous. Every touch away from your crotch felt like an explosion that streamlined back down to your array. Judging from the expression on his face and the amount of fluid spilling from between his legs, he was feeling just as over-stimulated as you._

_It was entirely possible, if Sunstreaker was willing, to get you off without pleasuring neither your spike nor your valve. Inferring from the hungry look he was giving your spike, you suspected he had no such plans, though. Still, it was not in his nature to rush through things._

_He turned his burning golden optics away from your dripping spike to your own (color) optics. You whirled at him and drew him into a kiss. You grunted when he began shifting. Halfway the sound turned into a choked moan as he pressed your now exposed arrays together. Your hips jerked forward involuntarily and you growled lowly against the overload you just barely managed to keep at bay, “Sunstreaker…” You warned._

_A sigh, in a voice that you completely forgot about until now, pierced through the rumbling engines and buzzing fans, “I told you you spoil him too much.”_

_You couldn’t see Sideswipe from your angle but Sunstreaker’s mouth curled into a victorious smirk. He didn’t fuss when Sideswipe swept up behind him and forced him up further into your lap. Instead he turned his head and slammed his mouth against his twin's, “Took you long enough.”_

_Sideswipe was too turned on to bother getting agitated. He simply kissed back just as aggressively, not letting up even when he forced his brother to take you inside him and Sunstreaker tensed up. You dug your fingers into his thighs. It was the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded. Not that it mattered much. Two klicks later, Sideswipe dug his fingers through the padding and fabrics to snag your hips. Your mouth dropped open when he lifted._

_Sunstreaker tipped forward and you scrambled to steady him. Unfortunately that left no one to support you when Sideswipe lined up his pressurized spike with your drenched valve._

_You could do nothing but lie there, crying to the heavens._

_The twins’ combined weight was too much for you to overcome._

_It was hot._

_Sunstreaker’s spike left a growing puddle on your chassis—a mess he smeared even further as he grinded against you as best he could. There was no way you could stall your overload. Not with the way Sideswipe was angling his hips. Not with the way Sunstreaker dug his fingers into the vents on the sides of your chassis. Not with the way your charge kept growing and growing and_ growing _until--!_

            Sunstreaker sighed and onlined his optics. Bright red dimmed by the night met him and he nuzzled into his brother’s plating, “I miss him, Sides…”

 

            “Me too.”

 

            The chill, seeping in through the empty space beside him, was a constant reminder of what’d been lost.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally didn't intend to add the sticky. It was supposed to be cute cuddling and witty banter but, well...I kinda like this better ;P


	5. Racing for Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to those who will read this intro before I come up with something nicer. It is almost 5am and I am tired. v.v  
> Regardless! I would like to thank you all for reading or leaving kudos or subscribing or commenting or you know, just generally being your awesome selves! <3

            Honestly, Sunstreaker could whine about it all he liked--Sideswipe was starting to like Earth. Sure it had a Pit-sparked name and he really wasn’t all that enamored with the locals but their forms of entertainment were certainly worthy of admiration.

            Naturally he leaned more towards the more physical activities. Those regular ones with all the different balls were nice but he liked the real competitions—the ones where people actually had something to _lose_.

            He wasn’t much of a con-artist anymore but that didn’t mean he didn’t still find joy in one-upping others. Smokescreen made it easy with all the betting pools he had open. He won the most credits with the fights— _boxing_ , if he remembered the word right—and the races. The latter was particularly popular considering what they all transformed into. When the Autobots finally got approval to host a few of their own, chaos erupted in the volcano for a couple days.

            No one was surprised when Sunstreaker stayed out of the fray. The last thing he wanted to do was scuff up his finish just for a measly turn around a cheap tarmac. The same couldn’t be said for Sideswipe. They expected _Perceptor_ to volunteer before they thought Sideswipe would sit out.

            Eventually they reasoned that Sideswipe was only skipping out because his brother had. The two did a lot of things together after all so it made sense that they would also _not_ do a lot of things together, together.

            The real reason had very little to do with keeping Sunstreaker company though that was certainly a large factor. It also didn’t have as much to do with attempting to rig the races to his favor like Red Alert or Prowl suspected. It was mostly the fact that Sideswipe remembered the first time he’d gone to something like this. The memories were locked safely away now that the pain had faded to a periodic dull ache but he remembered [Name] and all the fun things they used to do together.

 

_Technically there was no reason for you to do this. 'This' being taking the twins out for a solar cycle at the raceways._

_Most Praxians engaged in such sport but as a noble, you were partial to more refined forms of competition. Mechanimal races were more popular in the Towers but Praxian nobles were able to set up a fairly decent scene that you could appreciate. On their own, the twins likely would not have been able to afford to come. Still, you thought they would like the chance to network with other mecha with funds enough to commission paintings._

_That was your outward excuse anyway._

_You really just wanted to see them again._

_Sunstreaker needed to get out. As much as he loved to create, you knew he was drowning himself in it and Sideswipe would no doubt love a chance to do battle with chance. Betting on races was something you were sure he’d have fun with considering how much he enjoyed his work as a salesman and an investor._

_You couldn’t justify your desire to keep meeting up with them. Your last major party for the stellar cycle was a groon ago and you were no longer obligation-bound to keep up with the twins now that they had finally secured a place to call their own. Considering your new and rather..._ unexpected _circumstances with Layout, it was actually indecent for you to do so. You_ really _shouldn’t be doing this…_

_But you were going to anyway._

_“Calm down, Sideswipe. We can go waste our credits in a klick. Let [Name] show us around first.”_

_It was a great solar cycle for racing. The sun was bright and coming down hard though the awnings would do more than enough to protect your plating. The twins followed you as you led your constant companion, Ghost, to the starting area, “My apologies but it shouldn’t take long to enter in Ghost’s information.”_

_Sideswipe finally keyed in to his immediate surroundings and whirred at all of the mecha with other mechanimal-like Cybertronians leashed to their sides._

_“Hey, wait! Ghost is going to run?” You tipped your helm with a smile._

_“I don’t enter her in these competitions often since few mecha own authentic cybercats for her to compete against. Ghost has a natural speed advantage as a wild-caught mechanimal from the Stanix Wilds that regular housekitties just couldn’t compare to. Still, when enough exotic pet owners are recorded to be in one place, there are usually invitations sent out for us to bring out our pets. If enough people agreed as they have this time, a date and location are reserved and mecha with enough money come and bet on the outcomes.”_

_The red mech’s field flared in excitement. You were hard-pressed not to laugh loudly at his clear enthusiasm. Sunstreaker’s resigned expression of irritation only added to how funny you found the situation though you refrained. It wouldn’t do to laugh at someone’s displeasure and it certainly wasn’t a good idea to encourage Sideswipe to behave any more extravagantly than he already was, “Are you going to bet on anyone?”_

_You shook your helm negatively, “No. It’s against the rules mostly because it is unnecessary but also because it is considered rude. As a rule, all of the owners are compensated for allowing their pets to run. The owner of the winning pet also receives a portion of the ticket sales. Any credits added to the betting pool will be distributed amongst the winning guests however many offer up a small polite percentage of their winnings to the owner of the winning mechanimal. That particular curtesy isn’t typically brought up unless the ticket sale winnings are significantly less than the betting pools’.”_

_Sideswipe leered at Ghost who was simultaneously paying attention to everything and ignoring every one. He knew she was aware of his actions by the way one of her audial shells flicked towards him at his movements. It turned away just as quickly however as she dismissed his approach as little more than his usual pestering, “How well do you think Ghost is gonna do?”_

_You hummed noncommittally as you released your pet into a handler’s care. Ghost did not appreciate being poked and prodded but it was necessary to ensure she was okay to compete, “I have seen few with the ability to match her in speed. However, if her competitors are too aggressive, Ghost will most likely hand first place to them. She does not handle confrontation very well.”_

_“So…that means that I should or shouldn’t put my credits down for her?”_

_“Well, I certainly can’t say ‘yes’ very plainly if I want to stay qualified._ But…! I _f I were_ allowed _to bet…I would maybe most_ definitely _consider my_ vote for her _.” You tried not to react to the large smirks that curled their mouths at your words. Really, they made upholding common decorum so difficult but you loved it. “It’s rare for Praxians to rear aggressive mechanimals since they don’t use them for hunting or fighting. Now, let’s go take our seats, shall we?”_

             The crowds were very reactive when the Autobots pulled off from the starting line. Naturally Jazz was one of the first to peel ahead of the others though it surprised some that Mirage kept pace with him easily. Neither twin was particularly surprised considering they were familiar with noblemech preferences of entertainment but it was still fairly unexpected considering how stuffy he was.

 

            “This is fun, isn’t it, Sunny?”

 

            The similarities weren’t lost on the golden twin and while he disagreed, he didn’t want to ruin his brother’s good mood, “Yeah, I guess so.” He even made a point of not mentioning Sideswipe’s grating use of that garish nickname.

            Sideswipe smiled to himself and turned his attention back to the race.

            There weren’t any gourmet energon goodies or plush pillows to lounge upon on the ground in root-mode. You weren’t there to laugh at their antics and join their cheering when the little streak of grey—faster than a shadow and living up to her namesake—flashed across the finish line in first place but he could pretend and for now that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A stellar cycle is one planetary revolution around their sun. However, since that happens too fast for Cybertronians to count that like a human year in my headcanon you should think of it as more like a collection of months like we group certain months with certain seasons. 
> 
> A groon is like a week.
> 
> Klick is a second.


	6. Truthful Lies, Honest Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took longer than expected! Writer's block and all that but it's finally here! Yay!

_“I hope you weren’t lying.”_

_Sunstreaker pressed his field questioningly against Sideswipe’s—too tired to bother with words when he didn’t have to. Sideswipe for his part was still wide awake. Being around so many people didn’t have the same draining effect it had on Sunstreaker. The golden twin was sure that if he hadn’t been feeling so overwhelmed, Sideswipe would have perused the Cultural Festival for several joors more._

_He felt bad for pulling him away. After Sideswipe managed to sneak them into a public transport vehicle lot, Sunstreaker encouraged him to go back. Sideswipe had simply smiled, kissed his brother’s cheek, and ushered him into an old transport in need of serious repairs._

_It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as it could have been. The seats had long ago lost their soft padding. Chips and stains and cracks littered the walls and windows. There were quite a few that didn’t shut at all which did absolutely nothing to ease Sunstreaker’s nerves. They might have chosen a newer one if they weren’t all being used to ferry people to and from the Festival. It was safer this way, though. No one would come poking around such an old piece of scrap._

_Sunstreaker didn’t press the issue with his twin. The other was incredibly persistent and if he really wanted to go back Sunstreaker knew he would have._

_That didn’t stop him from talking about it almost non-stop while Sunstreaker attempted to fall into a fitful recharge._

_“About the stuff I pilfered bein’ bits of scrap in comparison to your real slag. I mean, if you did it’s not the worst thing in the world but it’ll make--”_

_“I didn’t lie,” Sunstreaker griped irritably. He turned away with a huff. There was an armrest stabbing him in his upper back that no amount of shifting would alleviate._

_“Then why haven’t I ever seen them?” Sideswipe demanded. Sunstreaker shrugged lifelessly._

_“Because we never have the credits for supplies. You need paint to make paintings, Sides, and that’s not even including all the other slag that comes with making something good.”_

_He didn’t mean it as an accusation but Sideswipe took it as one. He pressed his field and his frame heavily against Sunstreaker’s apologetically. And yet, he didn’t accept all of the blame. With a gentle poke to a prominent helm fin, Sideswipe pointed out, “You never told me you wanted that. I didn’t even know you did this sort of thing until now!”_

_“That's because I never did want it. It’s something I’m good at, not something I really care about.”_

_“Liar,” Sideswipe accused. He prodded his brother’s fin until Sunstreaker’s low growling turned into a roar. He shoved his elbow back into the red chassis. It succeeded in interrupting Sideswipe’s fitful laughter but failed in making him pull away. “Seriously, why do you even try? I know you, Sunny, and it doesn’t help that you suck at lying.” He continued on before Sunstreaker could get too upset and said in a softer tone, “Why didn’t you just tell me? It would’ve been easy to snag you something.”_

_Sunstreaker hesitated in his response. The truth was he had no interest in working with stolen goods. It was the main reason why he never asked. It would make his work feel like a mockery of what it could have been if he went about it honestly. He didn’t want to hurt his brother’s feelings though so instead he sighed and said, “And where would I put it, Sides? In my subspace? We need that for better things like fuel or thermoblankets.”_

_Unable to refute Sunstreaker’s statement, Sideswipe deflated. Sunstreaker might have felt worse if his twin hadn’t pressed so insistently. That wasn’t even the worst thing he could have said._

_Silence settled between them long enough for Sunstreaker to assume Sideswipe was finished. He himself was tired and starting to drop into that weird state between awareness and deep sleep. There was no point in fighting to stay awake. In his last moment of consciousness, he heard his brother’s promise:_

_“I’m gonna get us a home, Sunny, and when I do, you’re gonna have a whole room just for your art.”_

 

            If Sunstreaker was being honest, he hadn’t believed Sideswipe. He suspected his twin knew it, too. He’d dare say it was the very reason they were standing outside a human building several million years later.

            The gold mech looked around at an art gallery—through a window, of course--where he found a large collection of his more prominent works displayed.

            They were small by Cybertronian standards. Even with saved up credits, materials were hard to come by. Art wasn’t exactly at the top of the war’s supply list even if the Squishies were willing to accept customized requests.

            Some were photos of mecha he’d painted. Some were old unfinished sketches. Some were full out masterpieces, colored in black, white, and eerie gray. They were romantic pieces—memories that brought the golden twin to the brink of both pride and pain.

           

            “So technically it’s not _entirely_ yours,” Sideswipe said as he strode over from where he’d been conversing with members of this planet’s dominant species. “But the humans were willing to share and Earth _is_ our home now so~”

 

            “Thank you, Sideswipe,” he said. The words, quiet though sincere, were accompanied by a sharp pang in his chest and he realized--like he did every time he was forced to express his gratitude--that he’d never done that for you. Certainly not to the extent that you deserved and now it was forever too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's short and you're actually not featured very prominently in this chapter but I think it turned out for the better this way. We get to see a bit more of the twins' interactions and how they lived and live without you around to influence their decisions.


	7. First Chance (or A Life for a Life)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker’s going through a hard time right now. The Autobots have taken a huge hit with Sentinel’s death and Optimus is not exactly the leader they were hoping for. Our lovely Sunflower has fallen into despair—or rather further into it—with a splash of survivor’s guilt to intensify the flavor. He attempts to be creative as a coping mechanism. It doesn’t work. Hardly surprising considering this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everybody! I have not forgotten about this story and I apologize for taking so long to post a new chapter! I don't know how many of you look at my other fics but I've been kinda absorbed with them for the last few months...(a year, actually, *cough cough* Sorry!) but this story is still dear to me and it's still going to continue so never fear!

_“You should take that mech up on his offer,” Sideswipe said casually, smiling warmly and lightly brushing his fingers against his twin’s. Sunstreaker kept himself from withdrawing and instead returned the gesture despite not really wanting to. It’d be different if Sideswipe was actually paying attention to him. At the moment though, the irony spoiled any genuine sentiment Sideswipe might have wanted to convey._

_They were sitting outside a bistro of sorts, leaning close to one another across one of the many tiny tables positioned just off the walkway. Mecha passed them by without sparing even a glance, never noticing that neither twin was consuming any energon and were in fact subtly watching each of them as they passed. Sideswipe’s attempt at charming the host hadn’t gone very well so Sunstreaker was stuck helping him achieve Plan B—pickpocketing for enough credits to refuel. That didn’t usually require a conversation; especially not one that Sunstreaker_ didn’t _want to engage in._

_Knowing Sideswipe that was probably exactly why he chose now to bring it up. There was nowhere for Sunstreaker to run._

_Resigning himself to this fact, the golden mech tilted his helm long-sufferingly and replied, “Why?” in the most uninterested tone he could manage._

_Sideswipe only grinned widely and flared his field excitedly, “I reworked the plan a little. I know you don’t really care about all the details.” He began. Sunstreaker glanced away tellingly. His twin’s grin shifted a little into something a bit more mischievous though he moved on smoothly. (1) “So I’ll keep it simple. We need to get into someone’s house--”_

_Sunstreaker’s optics flared in alarm, “What?”_

_“Hear me out, Sunshine, it’s not so bad; just listen--”_

_“I’m not helping you break into someone’s home,” Sunstreaker hissed angrily. “We’re supposed to be getting our own place not stealing into someone else’s--”_

_“We’re_ not _! Hush!” ~_ Now look: the mech at the shop says he can pay big credits for nice things. You don’t get much nicer than fancy trinkets at a richmech’s auction party. All we’ve gotta do is snag a spot in his line-up, catch a glimpse of some of the valuables, and—well, the rest is up to me but you, my darling sunbeam, you’ve gotta make something good enough to get his attention. _~_

_“How am I supposed to do that?” The lack of supplies and a place to store them was still an insurmountable obstacle._

_“Don’t worry about the technical stuff. I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help you out if we sell your potential. You just come up with something good to work with and I’ll get you everything else.”_

_Sunstreaker exvented when his spark suddenly burst with a foreign sense of victory. Sideswipe tilted his helm coyly and tickled Sunstreaker’s palm with his fingers—the mark of a successful grab, “Hungry?”_

_"Starving,” Sunstreaker admitted and rose in perfect synchrony with his red counterpart. There was no point in pretending like he wouldn’t submit to his brother’s antics. There really wasn’t any other option if they wanted to make it in the world. ~_ You call him. I’ll probably just screw up the words _.~ He rumbled as he followed Sideswipe back through the storefront._

_~_ Today? _~ Sideswipe pressed eagerly even as he flashed a charming grin at the chafed employee who’d turned them away the first time._

_~_ Whenever, Sides. It’s not like we’re busy doing anything… _~_

_"Good, cuz I already invited him out to meet up a joor from now.” Sunstreaker couldn’t even get angry. A part of him likely already suspected as much._

_“Of course, you did.”_

_Even still, that didn’t stop him from being nervous…_

_He hadn’t needed to be._

            He’d spent vorns afterwards trying to recreate that perfect image you presented when you showed up.

            He was never successful.

            There was no way to immortalize your radiance—your glowing plating, your glittering accents, your bright optics. No brushstroke nor stylus trick that could produce the ecstatic smile that split your faceplates when you sat across from them that first time. No special effect what made Sunstreaker feel anyone looking on would understand the sheer amount of hope you’d bestowed in his spark that day when you led them to a professional art studio and given them essentially free reign of it under your powerful designation…

            It was a deep-rooted trust offered unconditionally that Sunstreaker would forever feel horrible for misusing.

            No matter how great an artist he became, he’d never be able to capture what you meant to him, what he’d lost when you left this world, what’d he’d shattered even before Altihex fell.

            You hadn’t deserved it. Not when you’d given them something no other Cybertronian—let alone a noblemech—would offer anyone from his background.

            Maybe that was why he followed Optimus so infallibly.

            There was a similarity there, a willingness to see the good in mecha who’d only had the worst intentions swirling in their processors.

            He wouldn’t spoil this opportunity like he had all the others. He couldn’t make the same mistake again. He owed you that much.

            If he couldn’t physically bring forth your memory, then at the very least he could try to preserve your nature.

            He wasn’t you. He never could be but he could do what you’d surely have asked of him. He could give this new commander what you’d so easily given him time and time again.

            And if Sunstreaker perished for his decision—his choice to continue to fight in this all-encompassing war under a softer mech when even mighty Sentinel’s deactivation clearly proved their efforts were futile--then at the very least he could meet you in the Well and there grovel with the defense that he’d followed your example. That he understood now how much it took to give what you had to them. That he understood how deeply he’d disappointed you when he and Sideswipe had wasted your gifts. That he’d always known but it was only now that he’d paid for it in the same way you had.

            He could only hope it’d be enough—that it’d prompt you to do what you hadn’t been able to in life. That you’d offer him one last chance even if it was far too late to make a difference.

            He needed it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The truth was more like Sunstreaker couldn’t lie for slag so it was easier if he didn’t know more than the basics if ever he was asked about it. Of course, no one (except maybe Sideswipe) can point this out without expecting retribution so we dance around this fact as delicately as we can.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, if you couldn't tell? You're dead. :P
> 
> On a different note, Cybertronian time passes by way differently than ours does and it's been a beast trying to find the most accurate terminology so I largely made up my own system. For those of you who are interested:  
> Two groons is like saying two weeks.  
> A cycle is like saying a day.  
> Three orns is basically three months.


End file.
